We held hands like the attachment to the other was life itself, and for our hearts it was. Fate constructed them perfectly to fit the other. We would lay in bed and watch the sunrise not wanting to the light of day to tear us apart from the other. And though it never did, the courts would make sure of that. Ten years, almost to the date, was when I heard the gavel pound my freedom into what would turn out to be non-existence. Party to a crime. Party to a time when we felt we had no other choice. Both of us being pushed to the point of action we felt we could not escape. Mu body rocked with insanity on the couch before he spoke. And when he did, it was far from a joke. Invested we were, as much as in love, as in each other. Till the lawyers got involved and turned our love into a circus named Justice. Justice for whom? For the true victims are now labeled felons and the true psycho runs still free. Free to just so happen to end up playing pool 3 blocks away from my house not too long ago, when some sort of map app mysteriously appeared on my phone the day before. Coincidence by now, it very well may be, but memories don't leave me when every day still I live the tortured life of irony. I can still feel his palm in mine when I put my own two together. And not once since then have I met another like him. The only true love that was never voluntarily left behind till the end of time. Some true love is a crime.
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